


The Past is Best Left in the Past

by kickcows



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickcows/pseuds/kickcows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of his mentor's birthday, Tseng heads to a bar that holds a special place in his heart. Set after the events of Advent Children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Past is Best Left in the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madisuzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madisuzy/gifts).



> Thank you, Madi, for requesting this from me. To know that you trust me with your muses means so much to me. I hope that I've done them justice. Please enjoy! :)

***

It’s a quiet night in the bar - the music from the jukebox is playing a song from his youth, something he hasn’t thought of in a decade. He drains what’s left in his glass, the amber legs of the top shelf bourbon slowly pooling back towards the bottom. The bartender is there in flash, refilling his glass, just as he has asked him to do when he had arrived an hour earlier.

Today is a day he didn’t care to remember, but it was inevitable. Reno had asked if he had wanted company this evening, the redhead’s vivid aquamarine eyes fluttering in his mind as he replayed the exchange.

“ _You gonna go to the bar?” Reno asks._

_He doesn’t give him an answer, as they both know what it will be. He stands up from his desk, and makes his way out of his office._

_“You know, drowning your sorrows ain’t gonna do shit for him. You know that, right? Why do you gotta torture yourself with this shit?” Reno’s walking beside him, yammering on. “You only do this to yourself. Can’t you just let shit go?”_

_“No.” He steps into the elevator, the reflection of his long hair, and the tilak on the middle of his forehead, a reminder of his heritage._

_The doors begin to close, the redhead still admonishing him. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn ya! Tseng - you really need-” The doors shut, silencing his second in command, leaving the Head Turk to stew in the silence._

Taking another sip of the bourbon, he inhales the deep, musky odor of the liquor, the taste of oak bitter on his tongue as he swallows his sip. It burns the back of his throat still, nowhere near as inebriated as he wants to be. But he’s working on it; he’s chasing the buzz to dull his mind of the reminders of what today is.

Tseng looks around the bar, and sees that even though it’s after nine in the evening, the bar is remaining sparse. He knows it isn’t because of him - not tonight. He is dressed in casual wear - if one would call a pair of grey slacks and a dark purple Oxford shirt casual. He pulls his pack of smokes out of his shirt pocket, and takes one out. Before he lights it, he pulls his hair back, slipping his hair through the elastic band once - then a second time, before leaving it on the back of his neck in a half-hearted attempt at a ponytail.

A flame appears in front of his face. “You know, those things will kill you.” A sonorous baritone voice states matter of factly.

“And yet, you still offer a light?” He tries to keep the scowl off of his face, as this man is not one he wishes to see on this night. Especially on this day. Any other day, he may not have minded his presence too much, but it seems as if Fate was not being kind to him this evening. He inhales, pushing the tip of his smoke into the flame, igniting the tobacco and paper. He pulls the smoke away from his lips, and exhales, filling the air with bluish-grey smoke. “Were you following me?”

“No.” The person sits next to him, the dim light above the bar gleaming off the golden claw his left hand is encased in. “I happen to enjoy this bar. How did you even know of this place? I didn’t think any Turk went down below the plate unless they were sent out on a mission.”

He looks at the man’s red cape, and can’t help but feel like Fate is just being a bitch to him now. It was true - he would never normally be in a shithole such as the one he’s now in, but there’s a reason he’s in this bar tonight. He takes a drag on his cigarette, tapping some of the grey ash into the ashtray the bartender had set out for him. He takes a moment, enjoying the rush of nicotine in his blood, before he exhales the smoke. Picking up his glass, he swallows the liquid down, the burn no longer a factor. Finally - he’s reached where he wishes to be.

“A friend brought me here before.” He stares off into space, as he thinks about the first time he had been brought to this particular bar. It had been after his first successful kill in the field, his mentor wanting to reward him in the only way he knew how.

“ _Good job today, Tseng.” Veld remarks, slamming a large tankard of beer down in front of him. A second glass is placed next to it, a honey-colored liquid of some sort. “Since you did such a fine job today, first round’s on me!”_

_“What is this, Sir?” He asks, looking at the small glass._

_“You drop it into the beer, and then you drink it all at once.” Veld picks up his own shot glass, and dunks it into the beer. Tseng watches him drain the glass in a few gulps, not bothering to set it down until it was empty. He slams the tankard on the table, and looks at him. “Drink up, Tseng!”_

_Wavering for a moment, Tseng looks at the shot glass, and decides that he must follow what his mentor wants him to do. It’s not that he doesn’t have a taste for alcohol - he actually enjoys a drink or two, but to be drinking in such a manner with this man he respects above all others makes him a little off-kilter. Dropping the shot into the glass of beer, he watches it sink to the bottom. He can see the other Turks that have joined their ‘celebration’, encouraging him to ‘chug’ the beer. He closes his eyes, and lifts the glass to his lips, and begins to drink._

_The shot touches his lips first, the glass hitting his upper lip as the burning liquid begins to cascade down his throat. He tries to ignore it, as the beer begins to slide down after it, offering relief in a manner he never would have expected. He drinks the rest of the beer in four swallows, and sets the empty glass back down, the smaller glass rattling inside of it._

_“Another round!” Veld shouts, the rest of the team cheering. Tseng looks at his mentor, and tries to ignore the thoughts that begin to surface, as he watches Veld talk with their fellow Turks._

His first memory of this bar fades, as another memory begins to take its place.

_Lips are touching his in a rush, both trying to push away the shirts off of their bodies. Veld’s hands are rough, but touch him with a gentle kindness he’s never known. Tseng can only moan in appreciation as those hands he’s admired so many times begin to coax his cock into hardness._

_It’s the first time he’s ever acted this way towards Tseng, and Tseng isn’t sure how to process it. He wants it all, but is too afraid to ask. Given their surroundings, he begins to question whether or not this is the right place to give into the lust he’s been feeling towards his mentor for some time now. As fingers keep wandering lowers, he feels those rough fingers - the fingers that were snapping someone’s neck only a few hours prior - glide over the baby fine hair of his happy trail. Fingers slip beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs, and graze the sides of his stiffening arousal._

_Veld is soon on his knees, pulling Tseng’s pants down from his waist. He looks down, and sees something in his eyes that takes his breath away. This isn’t the look a mentor gives his protege. No - there is something more there. That’s when Tseng knows he’s in too deep, that what’s about to happen will make time stop for him. Ignoring the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, he closes his eyes, and allows himself to be taken away._

Memories of their illicit affair begin to wreak havoc in his mind, Tseng takes another swallow of his bourbon, finishing off the glass. Those memories always seem to resurface on this day, his subconscious trying to fill the void the man left. He sets his empty glass down, puffing on the filter of his smoke, the tobacco almost gone.

“I know why you’re here,” Tseng remarks in a quiet tone. He keeps his face blank, another memory beginning to cloud his mind.

_“You mean to tell me that you slept with him too?” Tseng asks, ignoring the pain in his chest._

_“What does it matter? He’s gone. Has been for a long time. This was years ago, Tseng.” Veld’s back is towards his, the sheet of the bed barely covering his torso. This is not the post-coitus talk Tseng had been hoping for._

_His heart begins to ache. “I know he’s gone, but don’t you understand?” He’s not sure even he understands. “Why do I feel like I’ve been played?”_

_“You haven’t.” His mentor turns to look at him._

_“Are you sure about that, Director?”_

_He sees the effect of the name almost instantly on his lover’s features. “Are you punishing me now, Tseng? Because of my honesty? I do not love him in the same way I love you.”_

_“But you love him.” Tseng wishes he could just get up out of the bed and leave, but he can’t. Veld has never once said that he loves him until this moment, and hearing it makes the ache in his chest lessen, if only for a few moments._

_The smell of his musky cologne assaults Tseng’s nostrils, his face pressing firmly against the side of Veld’s neck. He holds him close with his right arm, the prosthetic left arm on the floor, Tseng enjoying the closeness for an eternity._

_“You love me? What if-” He leaves the question alone, as it is not something either wish to think about, even though it weighs heavy on both their minds. He knows the man has a wife and children, and knows that their affair was doomed before it even began because of their profession. Being a Turk means your expiration date comes sooner than most._

_Warm lips glide over the shell of his ear, the scruff of his beard tickling the side of Tseng’s neck. “I’m already a damned man, as are you, Tseng.”_

“Fool.” He mutters under his breath, another smoke in his mouth. He doesn’t remember taking one out, but is pleased when the rush of nicotine hits his system.

“Who?” Valentine asks.

“Veld, of course.” He sees his glass is full, and reaches for it.

A warm hand covers his wrist, stopping him from taking a sip. “Do you plan on going home in abodybag this evening?”

“I took a cab.” Tseng places his smoke in the ashtray, and uses his free hand to pick up the glass. “You don’t get drunk, do you, Valentine?”

“No.”

“Must be unpleasant, not being able to find any sort of way to live a little, hmm?” Tseng knows he’s pressing the other man, but he can’t stop it. Years of anger, years of frustration, years of comparing himself to the man beside him doesn’t help his drunken mind try to see that what he’s doing is only going to cause him harm.

The other doesn’t answer him for a few moments. Tseng notices his hand has yet to move from his wrist, the cool touch of his leather glove makes him jerk his hand away. “I can get drunk, but it takes a little bit more than the highest proof of alcohol available in most bars.” Valentine pushes some of his hair off of his forehead.

“Have to get stoned, and then drunk? Is that it?” His fingers shake a little, as he picks up his smoke and takes a drag. “Did he bring you to this bar too?”

It’s out in the open now. The question that’s been nagging in his mind since the ex-Turk sat down next to him. The cigarette balances between his lips, his hand reaching for the amber liquid as his brain moves his joints through the motions.

“Did you ever stop to think that perhaps it was myself that introduced him to this bar?” Valentine’s baritone voice penetrates his ear. “Perhaps it was myself that introduced the new recruits to this bar, along with the tradition of the car bomb drink?”

He stabs the smoke out in the ashtray, his anger flaring. “Are you here to torment me, Valentine? Is that it?”

“He slept with you.”

Heat rushes to his cheeks. “Excuse me?” Tseng asks. “How dare you insinuate-”

“We both know that today is his birthday. Why don’t you quit playing innocent?” Valentine turns and looks at the back of the bar. “Besides, I know he slept with you.”

Tseng is speechless. His mouth is dry, as he thinks about what the other man has just stated. How could this creature beside him know of his transgression with his mentor? Unless…

“He told you.” He knocks back a large gulp of bourbon, quickly chasing it with another long drag off of his smoke.

“And he told you that he and I slept together.” The ex-Turk replies.

Pushing the smoke into the ashtray, he extinguishes, and stands up. Years of training makes him able to stand normal, even though he can feel his equilibrium off on his head. The alcohol in his system has created a pleasant numbness, something he tends to allow himself to feel only on this day. Placing his pack of smokes back into his shirt pocket, he bows his head.

“Nice to see you again, Valentine.” He walks towards the back of the bar, and heads into the bathroom, needing to relieve himself before he tries to hail a cab back home.

He heads into the bathroom, and sees that it’s as empty as the bar is. His eyes dart towards the stall that he and Veld had their first tryst, and instantly regrets coming in here. Pausing for only a moment, he heads towards the stall, and closes the door behind him.

As he relieves himself, the silence of the bathroom starts to unnerve him. Perhaps its his alcohol-laced mind playing tricks on him, but he swears he feels someone else in the room with him. A shake later, he grabs a piece of toilet paper and pushes the handle down, dropping the tissue down into the swirling water. He opens the stall door, and stops moving when he sees that he is indeed not alone.

“Can’t you take a hint?” He asks, standing there, staring at the anomaly that is Vincent Valentine. The man is well into his sixties, and yet still has the same face of a 30-year old. It makes Tseng both sad and upset, because he knows he will never look like that at his age, but he doesn’t wish to either. Not with the amount of genetic modification it took to get Valentine to look like this. He tries to push past the man, but is unsuccessful.

In the blink of an eye, Tseng’s cheek is against the surface of the wall, Valentine pinning him against it. “Perhaps you dislike me so much because you know of the affair I had with Veld when I was still a Turk. Does it bother you to know he tended to glom onto individuals he thought worthy, and persuaded a relationship with them between the sheets?”

“Enough.” Maybe he should have heeded Reno’s warning, as Tseng never imagined he would find himself in this predicament. He could feel the cold touch of the metal claw on his lower back, disregarding the warning bells inside of his mind. He knows he’s no match for this man, and would not be - regardless of his inebriation or not.

“Or, does it bother you to know that the man only laid with two men, besides his wife?” Valentine’s hot breath against his ear makes Tseng involuntarily shiver.

“Your words don’t bother me,” Tseng pushes away from the wall, but is pushed back against it, the metallic fingers pushing against the small of his back.

“We both know you’re just saying that to make yourself feel better about your situation, _Turk_.” The title is meant to be an insult, and Tseng takes it as one. “You and I are different, though.”

Closing his eyes, Tseng breathes deeply. Knowing full well he was going to be walking into a verbal trap, he still replies. “How so? You said it yourself - he picked and chose those he felt he could teach a thing or two between the sheets. Things he could never find with his own wife.”

“He never took me.”

Tseng feels his knees grow weak, understanding just what Valentine is implying. “So, you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that he was in the position with me, that you were in with him.” The back of his neck begins to prickle, as the warmth of Valentine’s breath caresses his skin. “So, if he fucked you good? It was because of _me_.”

Something inside of him snaps. He pushes away from the wall with all of his might, and turns and stares at the creature in front of him. “Do not speak of what you do not know.” With the strength he manifests out of nowhere, he pushes past the looming man and leaves the bathroom.

He darts outside, and hails the first cab he sees. He climbs into the back, a little out of breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “ShinRa Apartments.” He turns around, and looks out the back window as the driver takes off, and sees an empty street. Shoulders slumping, he tries to calm his still pounding heart. “Mind if I smoke?” He asks the cabbie, and when he hears - ‘Don’t care’ - he lights up another one.

The cab pulls up to apartment complex above the plate - one of the first buildings ShinRa rebuilds after Meteor. He hands a few extra gil to the driver, and steps out. Taking his keycard out, he swipes it, and enters the building, heading up to his apartment on the tenth floor. He hopes there is bourbon in his apartment, nowhere near done drinking yet. He swipes his card next to his apartment door, and walks in.

Lights are on in the living room, which Tseng knows can’t be possible, as he’s meticulous about conserving power. His eyes dart around, trying to see if there is an intruder in his apartment, and if there is, he hopes they have a death sentence because he is not in the mood for some piss-ass pickpocket. Realizing he has no weapons on him, he moves cautiously through the foyer. He takes a step forward, and without warning, his back collides against the wall.

“How did he even tolerate you?” Valentine is standing in front of him, the metal claw grabbing Tseng’s chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Tseng ignores the quip, and instead tries to figure out just how this man is standing in his apartment. A sudden chill fills the air, as he realizes the door to his balcony is open. “Did you scale up the wall? And how the fuck do you know where I live, Valentine?”

He pushes the man away, and heads into his kitchen. “I know where all the Turks sleep. Force of habit.”

“Why can’t you take a hint?” Tseng grabs two glasses, and grabs the full bottle of bourbon from the top of his fridge. “I thought I made it pretty clear that I don’t want to talk to you. You’ve broken into my apartment. I could have you shot.”

“If you could kill me, I would welcome it.” Valentine stands in front of him, a look of disdain on his face. “I think you’re just afraid.”

“Of what?” He begins to take a sip of the shot he’s poured into a glass, but lowers it to look into the man’s crimson eyes.

“That I spoke the truth.”

Tseng knows that Valentine is smart. His reaction in the bathroom should have been a clear indication that Tseng knows he speaks the truth. And that truth _hurts_. If what he says is correct, if Veld was in his position in his relationship with Valentine, then it would be safe to acknowledge that Veld took cues from Valentine's behavior in bed. He feels sick to his stomach, setting the glass onto the kitchen counter. Fate is continuing to torture him, and the exhaustion of trying to ignore it begins to settle into his bones.

“Are you suggesting we fuck to find out?” Tseng’s loosened tongue from all the bourbon makes him speak what he thinks he’s saying internally out loud. He looks up and sees a smug look on Valentine’s face. “What?”

“You just propositioned me.” Valentine replies.

“I did not.” His cheeks burn, as he thinks over what he’s last said. “Shit.”

“Did you not mean to say that out loud?” The smirk grew more on the man’s face.

Would there be any harm in doing what he’s suggested? Tseng weighs the pros and cons in his mind, the seconds ticking by. Determining that the pros slightly outweigh the cons - pro first and foremost being the last time he was intimate was over six months prior - and that was only because Reno had told him had to find some sort of release - which he took over and over willingly from the redhead. Having sex would alleviate some of the pain he still feels in his chest. Maybe it would be like fucking a ghost, or maybe it would just be a good fuck.

He turns on his heel, and leaves the kitchen without a word. Heading towards his bedroom, he begins to unbutton his shirt, not bothering with decorum. He hears Valentine enter the room behind him, but only because he hears buckles being undone. The overhead light turns on, the harsh brightness of the fluorescent bulb temporarily blinding him.

“No. Turn it off.” He says, shielding his eyes from the light. Once the darkness returns, he removes his hand, and begins to unbutton his slacks.

“Afraid to see me?” Valentine’s warm breath against the base of his exposed neck sends a pleasant shiver down Tseng’s spine. “Would you prefer I just take you against the wall? I am more than willing to do that.”

Reaching up, he pulls the elastic out of his hair, and lets it fall over his shoulders. He bows his head, groaning softly at the touch of Valentine’s lips against the base of his neck. “I’m afraid of myself,” he admits in a low voice.

“Where’s your lubricant?” More scattered kisses along his shoulder cause Tseng to blank out temporarily. “Tseng, are you here?” Lips brush the shell of his ear, the tip of Valentine’s tongue licks the cartilage teasingly.

He tilts his head, offering more of his neck for the man standing behind him, humming softly. “Hmm?”

“I asked where you keep your supplies.” Valentine kisses a soft trail down the curve of his neck. “I know you’re a Turk, but did not expect you to be a masochist.”

“Dresser. Drawer on the right.” Tseng takes off his pants completely, and kneels on the bed.

The dresser drawer opens and closes. “Are you going to stay on all fours?”

“Would you prefer I lay on my back?” He mimics the words Valentine says earlier, his fingers digging into the soft folds of his comforter. “Just hurry up with it.”

“Did he not teach you to be a gentle lover?” A wet finger slips between the cleft of his asscheeks, touching his entrance.

The words hurt him. “No,” he whispers.

_“This is not hurting you, is it?” Veld’s two fingers were inside of his body, making him experience a pleasure he’s never felt before. “Speak to me, son.”_

_“F-Feels...good.” Tseng moans low, pushing his hips back, aching to feel those fingers further inside of him. “I-It’s different.”_

_“But a good different, yes?” The scruff of his beard caresses Tseng’s shoulder, as he lifts his legs higher up. He moans loud, the sound slipping past his lips unabashedly. “Ah, I see.”_

_He’s panting hard, whatever Veld has just done to him has turned his mind to mush. Lips are soon covering his as the fingers slip out of him, and he feels the smooth head of Veld’s cock begin to rub against his entrance._

_“Remember, it’s not about the rush,” Veld whispers into his ear, as he begins to push into him slowly. “It’s about the build up, and showing your partner that you truly care for them.”_

“You don’t care for me,” Tseng gasps softly, startled by the finger inching inside of him. “You’re not him.”

“Is that why you agreed to this?” Valentine slips his finger further into him, moving at a slow pace. “Because you thought I’d be him?”

“Isn’t that why you offered?” Tseng feels his knees spreading apart on the bed, helpless to the desire that’s now coursing through his system. The finger slips deeper,dragging a low moan from Tseng’s throat.

Valentine’s warm chest touches his side, his clothing gone. “I offered because I could feel your sorrow. He wouldn’t want you to be this way, don’t you think?”

“I guess I’ll never know.” His fingers grip the comforter more, as Valentine begins to spread apart his fingers inside of his body. “ _Shit_.” He groans loud, chesting falling to the bed as he shamelessly pushes his hips back. “H-Hurry it up.” His voice is muffled by the comforter, but he knows the man behind him can understand everything.

The fingers inside of him curl just a touch. “Why don’t you just enjoy the teasing a little?” Valentine’s lips kiss his jawline. “Enjoy the build up.”

“Nnngh…” Tseng moans, shocked by how turned on he is by hearing similar words leave this man’s mouth. It’s almost as good as the real thing. Almost. “Vincent.” He almost moans the deceased man’s name, but corrects himself almost without hitch.

“If you prefer to think of me as him, then do so,” Valentine’s words wash over him. “It won’t bother me, Tseng.”

Fingers pull out of him, leaving him wanting more. His ass is up in the air, chest pressed against the bed still, anxiously awaiting to feel this man’s girth inside of him. The moment the tip pushes into him slowly, he’s moaning loud, completely falling apart. Too many memories, too many forgotten feelings, too much pain hits him hard. He seeks solace with the man’s cock pushing into him just as slow as his fingers had just a few moments ago.

“V-V-Vaah…”

Up on all fours, Tseng is pushing his hips back, wishing for the man to go deeper into him. Valentine is still standing, Tseng balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. It feels incredible to be taken by this man, the feel of his thickness penetrating him overpowering. He can hear himself moaning, but can’t seem to be control the volume of his voice. With each thrust into his body, his moans increase in pitch.

“I wouldn’t make a bad lover, Tseng,” Valentine’s low voice permeates the air. “I’d even let you take me, if you wished.”

“No…” He shakes his head, pushing his hips back hard. He’s enjoying this far too much to even pause a moment to think about that suggestion. He hasn’t been in this position since Veld was his lover, and he’s not ready to relinquish it.

A hand is on his hip, and soon he’s balancing on his knees, while Valentine thrusts deeper into his body, the new angle proving to be quite beneficial for both parties. He inhales sharply as he feels Valentine's left hand, or rather - the metallic claw - on his left hip, the sudden coolness shocking his body. He reaches his right arm up, and wraps it around Valentine’s neck, anchoring himself onto his body.

“You enjoy losing control, don’t you?” Valentine’s words cause Tseng to thrust his hips back hard. He knows it’s true - he never lets himself go, and being in this position allows him that freedom. Perhaps that’s why his relationship with Veld worked as well as it did, because he never questioned the man’s natural power over him.

“You have no _idea_.” His back arches as Valentine’s right hand begins to pump his cock. “Oh!” He groans loud, pushing into his hand.

Words cease as they begin to focus on the physical pleasure together. Tseng’s voice is becoming hoarse with each loud moan leaving his throat, the more Valentine pumps hard into his body. The man’s girth is much thicker than what Veld’s was like, and it feels amazing. Tseng can feel his lower stomach begin to coil, his orgasm close. He wants to push it away, not ready to give up this feeling. He doesn’t want to be enjoying this as much as he is, and even with the metallic claw digging into his hip, he ignores it in favor of feeling more of Valentine. More of this sexual power the man is exuding over him, and he’s following it its wake blindly. One harsh thrust of Valentine’s hips push the tip of his cock against the bundle of nerves inside of his body, and Tseng is moaning his name over and over, the milky-white release coating Valentine’s hand as he keeps pumping him through his orgasm. His voice cracks with a sharp moan, the flood of Valentine’s release deep inside of his body pushing him over into a higher state of ecstasy.

Panting hard, Tseng lowers his arm, and pulls himself away from Valentine, grunting low at the loss of their connection. But the urge to lay down was too powerful, his head connecting with the pillow with a soft sigh.

“Are you leaving?” He asks the stoic man, who is still standing by the edge of the bed.

Valentine shrugs his shoulders. “I could stay, I could leave. It depends on what you want, Tseng.”

“I’m not sure what I want,” he answers truthfully. “I don’t know what this is, but I cannot deny how good you made me feel.”

The bed shifts a little, Valentine laying behind his back, spooning against him carefully. “I think he would approve of this, you know.”

Tseng turns his head, and finds Valentine’s lips with his own, kissing him softly. “I suppose it’s time to let those memories go?”

“Perhaps it’s time to make some new ones.” Valentine agrees.

He closes his eyes, and nods. “I think that would be best. I do think he would agree, Vincent.” He looks into his crimson eyes.

Tseng is finally at peace with the memory of his mentor, thanks to the man who once was with him as well. For the first time on this day, a smile graces his lips. 


End file.
